


Ink-Vestmere

by rprambles



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: Blasphemy, Discussion of Abortion, Drinking, Family, Fluff, Gen, Grey Warden Secrets, Laraine hates secrets, Mention of abuse, Parenthood, Prompt Fill, Religious Discussion, mention of past child abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:15:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26771254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rprambles/pseuds/rprambles
Summary: A collection of prompt fills for the list made by thethirdamell on tumblr. Various characters, not in chronological order. Tags will be updated.
Relationships: Alistair/Female Surana (Dragon Age), Anders/Female Hawke, Male Cadash/Dorian Pavus
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	1. #1 - Feastday / Meals

Orana is no where to be seen in the kitchen; her night off, and the dear girl has finally grasped the concept of 'night's off'. El is left alone to cut butter into a mound of flour, humming as she starts to work it into a dough. A soft whine at her feet - not quite alone. She glances at the mabari with a smirk. "It's not even proper food yet, I still have to bake it. Try later." He gives an almighty huff and she laughs. The door opening catches his attention and he trots out, welcoming whoever it is with a warm wuff.

"Hello to you too." Anders' voice brings a bright smile to her face. "No, I'm not going to pet you. Stop looking at me like that. There, are you happy now?" An answering bark and he lifts his voice. "El?"

"In here, love!" she calls over her shoulder. Footsteps approach, and then arms wrap around her middle as Anders tucks his face against her shoulder. She turns her head to kiss his cheek. "You're home early."

"Slow day. And I wanted to get back before you fell asleep this time."

She laughs. "Aw, no dozing off in my studies for me tonight?"

He chuckles against her shoulder and lifts his head a little to watch her work the dough. "Pie?"

"Mhmm." She nods to the package of butcher paper sitting on the counter, far enough back that Bear can't reach it. "Lamb. And if there's dough left over, I've got some apples."

Anders kisses her cheek. "You spoil me."

"Always." She drops the ball of dough on the counter. "Would you like to help, or would you rather keep holding me?"

He hums in thought, then reaches around her to take up the rolling pin. "How about both?"

"Oh, this will be interesting." 

It takes a couple tries for them to find a matching rhythm, and the dough quickly takes a wonky shape. After the third tear Anders hides a grin in her shirt. "Is this a good time to mention I've never made pie before?"

"It isn't usually made like this, to be fair," El says between giggles. She cups his face, leaving streaks of flour along his cheek as she steals a kiss. "Not to worry, love. We'll figure it out."


	2. #2 - Camp / By the Fire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - this is part of an AU i'm working on, sparked by a suggestion from LuciFern: what if Olek Cadash's mom was the Hero of Ferelden. surprisingly it works and it's a fun AU.

"Can we talk?"

Micha stops poking at the fire and looks up at Alistair. Whatever it is, he's got a knot in his brow, mouth in a hard line. Serious talk, then. "Course."

He hesitates a second, then it all comes out in a rush: "You let Lady Isolde sacrifice herself?! W-with blood magic, how could you do that?"

Ah, that. "Was her choice." It was the least she could do, Micha thought, to make up for putting the boy in that situation to start with.

"We could have gone to the Circle of Magi, we could have... done something that didn't involve blood magic!"

"Didn't exactly have the luxury of time t' figure all that out. No guarantee that demon wouldn't start shit while we were gone, and I sure as fuck wasn't about t' kill a _child_."

"I know, and I wouldn't ask that of anyone, I just..." all the fight leaves him in a soft sigh. He sits down and shakes his head. "I don't know how you could make that decision. I owe the arl better than-"

"You don't owe him shit," Micha says flatly.

He jumps a little, frowning. "He raised me-"

"Fuck that, he kept you out of sight. You said yourself, you slept in the kennels. That big fancy house and he couldn't find a room for you? He couldn't sit his wife down and tell her to stop treatin' a child like shit?" All the anger she's swallowed back in the past few days comes up, boiling in her gut. She has to take a breath, relax her hands out of fists. Once she's calmed a little she cups Alistair's face and holds his gaze. "You listen to me. You don't owe him anything. A good parent puts their kid's needs first. Not their wants, but their needs. Safety, food, and love. He didn't give you that, even when it wouldn't cost him anything. He was not good to you."

Alistair frowns, gaze dropping to the floor. Micha kisses his forehead and leaves him to think it over.


	3. #3 - "I have seen the throne of the gods, and it was empty" / Deities

"Forgive me if this is too forward, Elanor, but are you not Andrastian?"

Not a question she expects after a night of Wicked Grace. She sets down her wine and frowns at Sebastian. "Where'd you get that idea?"

"Your mother attends services regularly, but I have never seen you in the Chantry unless on business. I was curious if that was simply due to your... situation." He ignores Isabela's giggle. "Or if you do not believe."

"Oh, I believe in the Maker. I just hate the bastard."

Sebastian's eyes widen. "What?"

"Did I stutter?" She looks to Varric to be sure; the dwarf shakes his head. "Thought not, I'm not that drunk."

"I..." He looks like he's never heard of such a thing. Entirely possible. "I know you dislike the Chantry-"

"Oh, the Chantry's got nothin' to do with it. That's," she waves a hand absently, "they're their own pile of shite. We'll get into that later. But the Maker, absolute bastard. And if I ever meet Him, I'll tell Him so."

"...May I ask why?"

She hums around a mouthful of wine and sets the bottle down a little too hard. "S'obvious, inn'it? He created everythin', He created us, right? And then He pissed off because a handful of people broke int' the Golden City, so clearly the whole lot was rubbish. But then Andraste's singin' got his attention - and that's fair, I mean, Andraste would get anybody's attention, she got everybody's attention, didn't she?" And now she's thinking about Andraste's works and that's not the point she's trying to make. "Where was I?"

"The Maker's attention," Isabela supplies with a grin. Varric nods, not looking up from his writing.

"Right. She got it. And then she died, because she was mortal like the rest of us, and dying's a thing we do. And He got pissy and fucked off again! He could've done somethin' about it, could've saved her o-or made her not mortal, He's a god ain't He?! But no, He created a world in which people die and bad shite happens to people whether they deserve it or not, and then throws a fit when it happens to the one He cares about."

"He cares for all of-"

"He does not!" El spits. "The Chantry says He left. A couple people broke int' His house and He got so pissed He cursed them and the rest of the world with the Blight. And then He fucked off. That's not the actions of someone who gives a shite about others. He's a hateful, capricious bastard, and I hate him right back."

Sebastian makes a shushing noise. "Elanor, that is blasphemy. I'm going to shut that door, if someone hears you-"

"Everybody knows the Maker is shite! Here," she leans back in her chair to shout out the open door, " _The Maker is shite!_ " 

Sebastian freezes, a look of horror on his face. Varric and Isabela's laughter is almost drowned by the answering cry of drunken approval from the tavern below. El grins. "See? Everybody knows."


	4. #4 - Children of the Stone

Olek doesn't know why he can hear the Stone. Most surface dwarves don't. Out of his family, only his ma can hear it too, and she was born in Orzamaar. Maybe he was too - he was an orphan when his ma found him. He's never looked too close at where he came from; he's pushed down any memory he has of the years before he was handed off to the Carta. Wherever it was, it might have had a good connection with the stone, or his first parents came from below the ground. Or maybe the Stone just likes him. That's his favorite theory, that the gentle sweeping feeling he gets whenever he steps into a cave is drawn to something in him. That the Stone sees him trying his best to get by and wants to give what comfort She can. 

And he's grateful for it. The soft guidance in the right direction has saved his life many times; even above ground he can just feel it, can just hear the right way to go if he listens close. And the feeling underground that he can't really put into words - he's tried, Maker has he tried. Maybe if he knew better words he could do it. The closest he's come is a short melody plucked out on a stolen lute. He'd had to sell the lute later, but the melody sticks with him. There's no words to it, because there's no words to the Stone. She just is.

He'd been so worried he'd lose Her when he first set foot in a Chantry service. Afraid the Stone would take it as an insult, that he'd take comfort in a human god as well. But the Stone never leaves. Past the Chant of Light he can just feel that presence under his feet. Distant but still there. And why not? Why can't both the Maker and the Stone exist? 

Sometimes he can't hear Her, when he's in the upper levels of a building or surrounded by more wood than rock. He's never felt the Stone in the Barrel, and he can't blame Her for that. As much as he'd appreciate the comfort, he doesn't want to connect the Stone with anything about Dasher's tavern. It works out; in the Barrel he has his family, and in the world he has the Stone. It all works out.


	5. #10 - Origins

Micha never planned to be a mother. What kind of parent would she be? The only examples in her life had turned their backs on her when she couldn't fit into their mold of a perfect child. And she turned her back on them in turn, anger and hurt carrying her all the way to the surface. She's still angry about it, but there's more important shit going on. Like getting her work done so she can eat, avoiding guardsmen, keeping on the Dasher's good side. 

The fact that her menses is two months late. 

A child is the last thing she needs right now. She has enough to do keeping herself alive and taken care of, a babe would take so much more. And how could she raise a nugget in the Carta? No way Dasher would let her out to be a mother, and she wouldn't put it past him to claim the poor kid as another worker. And if he even tries to hurt her kid, fuck just the thought has her chest tight in anger. 

She goes to a midwife while out of the city on a job; less chance of anyone in the Carta hearing about it. She has options. End it now, before anything can really come of it. Might be the only babe she has, the way dwarves go. Leave the babe at an orphanage. Rough places, but might be kinder than the Carta. Keep the babe, try her best. She has an idea of what not to do at least, her parents gave her that much. 

Stone help her, how does someone make that kind of choice? 

If it weren't for Rhom, she'd end it. No way she could raise a little one alone in the Carta, but the quiet assassin is the most reliable person she's met on the surface. They pick up the slack on jobs without missing a step. Dasher wouldn't even have known if not for the obvious weight to her middle. He's keeping an eye on her, she knows. A new mother might try to run out. The thought is tempting, but she knows better than to try. Least not with a newborn. 

She comes to a decision well before the babe's in her arms. She's never been so exhausted, but it's worth it, _Ancestors, she's beautiful._. Micha gently runs a thumb over her cheek, speaking so soft. "Hello, little one. Don't know if I'll be any good for you. But damn am I gonna try." 

-

Igrid was a surprise, one she treasures every day. Her brother is just as unexpected, and she takes him in stride without a second's hesitation. How can she do anything else when she sees that bastard hand off a little boy who's nothing but skin and bones and bruises. When Dasher brings him out freshly branded and asks "Who wants him?" she answers immediately- "He's mine." 

"You have a brat, Cadash." 

"He's _mine_." 

It's the first time she's put her foot down against him. It goes surprisingly well. She patiently leads the boy up to the little inn room and tells Igrid she has to be gentle. Sweet girl she is, she nods and welcomes her new brother with the brightest smile. 

The boy is quiet, worryingly so. He almost keeps out of sight for the first week and it scares her until Igrid points out exactly where he is every time. He stares just a moment long at kind words and gentleness. She wants to hunt down the asshole that left him here, but the little boy needs her more. Rhom goes out one night and returns with bloody needles; one thing taken care of. 

She almost misses it when he does speak nearly a month later, voice soft as a feather. "Ma?" 

Oh, that's fast become her favorite word to hear. She gives him her warmest smile. “Yeah, nugget. I’m your ma.” 

He gives her the tiniest smile she’s ever seen and her heart about breaks. “C’mere, baby, you need some love.” His steps are a little more sure now, though he still freezes a little at her touch, and it takes him a moment to relax into the hug. But then he clings to her like she’s made of fog. She holds her son close and blinks away tears. 

-

Rhom doesn't expect the noble to survive a week, let alone his first job in the Deep Roads. He's the last thing from their mind as they help Micha keep Igrid from running back into the tunnels. "Olek's got Stone sense," Micha says patiently. "He's got a better chance of finding his way out here than we do of finding him in there. Just gotta wait, baby." They can hear the tight worry in her voice; no doubt they'd sound much the same. Nothing to do but wait and watch and hope Olek walks out soon. 

He doesn't. The noble does, disheveled and dirty, with blood soaking his side from carrying Olek out. All three of them run to meet him, hauling both up and off to the nearest healer. Barely a healer, but enough for Olek not to lose his leg. Once Igrid and Micha have both cried themselves out, Rhom looks to the noble, passed out in the corner. A quick check shows no serious injuries. Small mercies. While everyone sleeps, they pull a bit of yarn from their pack and start knitting. 

By the time Olek is awake enough to know where he is, the scarf is finished and they hold it out to the noble - to Vedrick. He stares for a second before taking it, rubbing the stitches between his fingers. "Thank you."

Olek smiles weakly and Micha chuckles. "Beat me to it."

Rhom shrugs. "Move faster." 

"This mean we're keepin' him?" Igrid asks with a grin. Vedrick frowns and she tugs her own scarf. "Welcome t' the crew, Ved!"


	6. #25 - Grey Wardens / Survival, Honor, Glory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Laraine's first act as Warden-Commander.

She leads them back through the castle, following the seneschal's directions to the master suite. It's odd to think of it as her quarters, but they are. It seems the darkspawn missed it, though there was a scuffle of some sort. She rights a chair and lights the hearth with a gesture. "Take a seat."

Anders hesitates, glancing toward the door. "Why do I feel like we're about to be attacked again?"

"You won't be, I promise." Mhairi's already seated and the eagerness in the young woman makes her chest hurt. Oghren settles into an armchair and Anders cautiously sits beside Mhairi. Laraine remains on her feet. "I dislike secrets. Particularly ones that get people killed. So I am going to tell you what the Joining and being a Grey Warden entails. None of it is pleasant."

"I saw what bein' a Grey Warden is," Oghren says. "Fighting darkspawn."

"If only it were so simple." Laraine takes a breath. "The Joining is simple enough. You drink a prepared potion of darkspawn blood," she sees Anders' mouth open and holds up a hand, "and if you survive that, you will be tainted. This rite gives you some control over the Blight. You will be able to sense darkspawn and be immune to further corruption."

Anders speaks as soon as she lowers her hand, "So we'll be just a little corrupted. Just enough to keep living."

Mhairi hasn't picked up her jaw from the ground yet. Oghren gives her a surprisingly sober look. "You and Alistair never mentioned that shit."

"Because you did not express an interest in being a Warden until now. Even then, most Wardens would not share this information at all."

"They'd have us go into this blind?!" Anders demands.

"The Order is fond of secrets. I do not yet know why, I..." she pauses, glancing at the floor. "I have not been a Warden for even a year. There are things that I do not understand, things that I only know because it has been told to me. But in my Joining, one of us died to the Blight. The other was murdered because he refused once he learned of the cost." Even now, nearly a year later, she remembers it clearly. Watching Duncan corner Jory, run him through for a moment of knee-jerk panic. That panic grasping at her own chest in a different way, hands shaking as she does as she's bid because it could be worse, it could be worse. 

She closes her eyes against the memory and shakes her head. "It was a needless death in so many ways. If he had known from the start what the Wardens would truly ask of him, perhaps it would have been different. But the Wardens allowed his ignorance, encouraged it, and it killed him. I refuse to allow that. So I will tell you everything I know of what I am asking you to commit to, and in the morning, you can give me your answer."

"In the morning?" Mhairi repeats.

"I am not explaining this to put you on the spot. I do not want you to rush into this, or," and she glances at Oghren with a fondness, "make a drunken choice that you will regret later."

"Hey!" He points a finger at her. "I'm sober enough to walk, I'm sober enough to make bad choices." He grumbles under his breath when she laughs.

"What if we say no?" Anders asks, voice oddly soft.

She understands the unspoken question, the quiet fear in his eyes. Laraine steps closer and covers his hand with hers; he twitches at the contact. "You can leave or stay. I will not force your hand, and I will not keep you against your will." She smiles warmly. "Not that anyone could."

He relaxes, letting out a slow breath, and smirks. "Despite the Chantry's best efforts."

She chuckles softly, but the amusement fades fast as she returns to the matter at hand. "For what advantages the Blight gives us, it comes with many drawbacks. Nightmares being the most immediately noticeable, but also decreased fertility and a shortened life spent hunting darkspawn."

"So I'd have to give up my plan of retiring to Antiva with a harem," Anders guesses.

Laraine laughs despite herself. Mhairi narrows her eyes. "This is serious, ser mage."

"I'm completely serious."

Oghren huffs. "I was always planning on going out swinging."

Her humor dies abruptly. "If you take this path, it's all but certain. As I said, when you take the Joining, you are tainted. And at some point, if you live that long, the taint will take its natural course. You will start to hear the Calling, the same that drives the darkspawn to find the Old Gods. At that point it is tradition to go to the Deep Roads for an honorable death in battle."

She's glad to see the eagerness has faded from Mhairi somewhat. Oghren scratches absently at his beard, gaze distant. Anders sits back and shakes his head, but says nothing.

"The life of a Grey Warden is difficult and demanding. It can also be rewarding, dedicating yourself to helping and protecting others from such horrors. Having a place to belong. But it is not a choice to be made lightly." She waves her hand and the fire dims to coals. "You may stay in the barracks tonight, and I will see you in the morning."

Little is said on the way to the barracks, and she walks back alone. Its awful to think it, she knows, but she's almost glad there are no other Wardens here. No doubt they would argue with her sharing the Order's secrets so openly. Not that she would have let their arguments stop her. She would rather fight alongside those who knew what this path would cost and still took it. She would rather they have the freedom to choose.

In the morning, all three of them will meet her in the hall to make that choice. And accept whatever comes with it.


End file.
